


Desensitized

by Vrunka



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: God where do we start here, Oral Sex, Other, Symbiote Sex, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 08:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16301990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: Eddie is getting used to a lot of things in their relationship.





	Desensitized

**Author's Note:**

> All right, well here I am, fellow monsterfuckers. What else can I say? It’s what it says on the tin.

It’s the bits of bone between his teeth that Eddie can’t quite get used to. Usually Venom does a pretty efficient job pulping the brain matter and eyeballs and noses and tongues and viscera into something that Eddie can’t taste once the symbiote has pulled back into him.

But even a symbiotic, telepathic super organism from outer space isn’t perfect.

And Eddie just can’t get used to tonguing pieces of cranial matter from between his molars.

He’s out at dinner with Anne and coughs up a gooey, organic chunk of...something onto the table and he stares at it for a horrified second before Venom’s chanting of _eat it eat it_ becomes too much and Eddie hurriedly sweeps the gore away. Anne doesn’t notice; she’s swirling her wine and talking about Dan and just generally being her endearing, flawless and beautiful self.

Eddie schools his face appropriately and doesn’t think about the bit of human now residing on the floor and he doesn’t think about how long it’s been lodged beneath his filling and how it even got from the writing mass that is Venom and into his own system. He doesn’t think about a lot of things that involve Venom’s autonomy with his body or their weird shared conscious.

_Eddie_ Venom hisses somewhere from his subconscious and Eddie clicks back from all those things he had definitely not been thinking about to the present moment.

Where Anne is frowning at him.

And there’s a bit of human, right there, staining the undoubtedly expensive wood floors.

“Sorry,” he starts to say. Voice catching. They’re getting better, more at ease with one another, like before Eddie’s Big Fuck Up, but they’re far from perfect. Galaxies far, far away from it.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Anne asks. She looks so concerned. The soft lines of her face. The sweeping fall of her hair.

_Almost good enough to eat_ Venom thinks. Or maybe Eddie does. A childhood book about monsters that Eddie couldn’t get enough of as a kid, they’ll eat her up they love her so.

Eddie swallows. He can still taste the blood-copper aftertaste of whatever it was he expunged a few moments ago. He swallows again, more reflexively, tasting bile. He manages a shaky smile over the threatening sickness. “I’m great,” he lies.

And while Anne doesn’t believe him, her frown and her fluttering fingers and her narrowed eyes tell him that, she doesn’t argue with him either. She glances at her watch. It’s gold-plated, a gift from Dan she’d admitted with a blush when Eddie had eyed it earlier. Tucking her hair behind her ear and ducking her head.

God he loves her.

_We miss her_ Venom offers.

“I miss you,” Eddie hear himself say.

She stiffens, then relaxes, smiling sadly. Her fingers toy with the cuff of her economic button-down, her nail catches on the gold band of the watch.

“I know you do, Eddie,” she says. “I miss you too. Sometimes.”

“Then why aren’t we—“

“Because I can’t.” Her fingers flutter, flutter. Eddie can feel Venom watching the motion of them, Venom’s trembling pulse, flickering along with his own. “Because I don’t want to,” she says. “I’m with Dan and I’m happy. You know that, deep down, don’t you?”

_We can always eat him_ Venom says.

“We can’t,” Eddie says, under his breath.

Anne hears it anyway. She reaches out to touch Eddie’s hands where they are laying on the table top, fisting in the cloth. “We can’t,” she echoes, not understanding. “But I’m here for you, Eddie, always, okay?”

“Yeah—“

_No_

“—I know—“

_We don’t_

“It’s...I really appreciate it, Annie.”

_You are lying to her_

Eddie forces another grin. Tries to contain the roiling he feels from Venom at the motion. The symbiote within him, rattling at the cage of his subconscious. Anne squeezes the back of his hand.

She only lets go a few minutes later, flagging down the waiter to ask for the check.

_You are making a mistake_ Venom accuses, later, as Anne and Eddie are saying their goodbyes in the parking lot. _She should be ours, Eddie_

And Eddie steels himself against the surge of longing and bitterness he feels at the thought; he accepts Anne’s rather awkward hug, when she steps into his space to bestow it. She smells the same as she did eight months ago, light floral perfume and wine and Anne. Specifically, uniquely her.

“This was nice,” she says and the symbiote in his brain howls with longing. “We should do this more often.”

Eddie’s grin, despite the heartache, the bittersweet pill of it, is genuine. “We should,” he says. “Maybe somewhere cheaper next time though, huh?”

Anne chuckles, she brushes his hair from his forehead and looks into his eyes and says, “It’s a deal.” And she’s smiling too, cupping his jaw, lips parted and Eddie could just

_Kiss her_

But he doesn’t. He relaxes his hold on her hips until it is nonexistent. An inch of space between his palms and the cozy fit of her work slacks. He releases her and after another moment she steps back. Gives him a wave as she starts her car. Eddie doesn’t move until she’s out of the parking lot. Tail lights receding as she pulls out onto the street.

_She should be ours_ Venom insists again.

“But she isn’t.”

_Because you are a coward. I would not be so cowardly_

“You already told me what a loser you were on your home planet, big guy, so don’t act tough now.” Eddie can feel Venom turn over that, rolling in his skin, around his bones. “If we push too hard, we’ll push her away. And neither of us wants that right?”

_Big talk. We see what you want us to do with her_

And the shameful, constant fantasies that Eddie has—the memories of Anne’s scent and the feel of her skin and the sound of her cries for him—are suddenly pulled to the forefront of his brain. Eddie’s knees go weak, gut cramping with longing. He sees himself with her pinned under him, tangled in sheet and against walls and always always always together and happy and good.

“Stop it,” he hisses. Clenching his fist.

_We could have this again_

“We’re not going to fucking eat Dan. She’d never forgive us.”

Venom coils, conciliatory, Eddie can feel it in his head as he fixes the helmet on. Throwing a leg over his motorcycle and starting the engine. It’s uncomfortable; half-hard from Venom’s prodding, worked up in a way he hasn’t been in a while. The purring of the bike between his thighs soothes just as much as it teases.

“Wanna go find some bad guys to eat?” Eddie offers. An olive branch. Cannibalism—or at least pseudo-cannibalism—always seems to make Venom feel better.

_Always_ Venom agrees.

Eddie guns the engine, tears off into the night to find a worthy cause.

—

He gets home and it’s almost dawn.

He’s tired and aching and Venom is more than a little bit bullet-ridden, but San Francisco is now one biker gang less and that’s probably a good thing.

Eddie burps as he slips his jacket off, tossing it away.

Venom, the heavy presence of him, vibrates at the sound.

_We did good_

“We did good,” Eddie says. Kicking his way out of his boots and his jeans. Venom helps with the shirt, tendrils lifting and tugging it over his head. Eddie watches them rise from his skin, shuddering painlessly through his pores.

He strokes the goo absently, feels it react against his palm, pressing up into the touch.

Two months now they’ve been coexisting. Two months of Eddie avoiding this sort of exploration, unsure of what to do with it. Or with himself.

_We do what is good, Eddie. What feels good. Anne makes us feel good_

“Not really,” Eddie says. Venom slips between his fingers, twining around his arm. Across his shoulder blades, cold like a shiver, crawling across his skin, beneath the skin.

_She used to_

Venom’s head, his teeth glittering, ghastly and perpetually grinning, tips this way and that. His eyes narrow, studying Eddie. Secondhand, Eddie can feel the scrutiny. Shared space of their brain flexing, mirrored.

_We can make us feel good_

“What are you talk—“

But Eddie doesn’t get to finish his thought. His body moves, jerking backwards, Venom’s tendrils dragging him against the wall, clinging to the brick.

_Like Anne_ Venom’s head says, teeth brushing against Eddie’s jaw. Swaying closer, backing away. Ooze on both sides of Eddie’s wrists now. Pinning him. What we want to do with her

Eddie sputters. Pulls at the hold on his wrists, back of his hand scraping against the brick, soothed almost instantly by more of Venom’s self. “I’m not a substitute,” he says.

_Of course not, Eddie. We are special. Different_

Venom’s tongue licks against his jaw, brief and flittering, teasing against his pulse. And those teeth, those teeth, flat and grotesque in the pre-dawn light. Something from a comic book. Exaggeratedly predatory.

‘Eat you up’, Eddie thinks. ‘Oh fuck, oh god they’ll eat you up.’

_I won’t, Eddie_

“You already have,” Eddie says. He pulls again and this time the slime on his right wrist recedes, slipping back into the flesh. Venom does not move his head as Eddie runs a finger over each of those dagger-like teeth. Twisted bones, deadly, decidedly deadly.

_But not to you_ Venom’s jaw opens as he says it and Eddie’s fingers slide once down the inner curl of one of those canines. 

Eddie swallows. “I know.”

Venom pulls free from his chest, clinging to the skin, shaping around the his pectorals. Between the two of them, Eddie’s hair stands on end, static from the rubbing, the tightness. He thinks of the power imbalance, of how easily Venom maneuvers him in a fight.

_You like how totally I can control us_ Venom hisses and if he could smile wider he would be. His satisfaction curls and heats Eddie’s chest, right underneath his sternum. Eddie grins right back, juts his chin forward.

He’s sweating, he can feel the beads of perspiration across his forehead and trickling down his neck, following the curve of his bare spine. Like clockwork, Venom’s tendrils follow it, wicking the moisture from his skin.

His tongue doing the same along the heaving column of Eddie’s throat. Prehensile, sliding lewdly along the angle of his jaw.

It should be gross.

Should be horrifying.

Eddie isn’t rightly sure if he’s ever been more turned on in his life. Including with Anne. His cock is straining in his briefs; Venom seems to feel it too, aware of it. He can feel the way both of their thoughts seem to circle his erection, its intensity.

Eddie left arm, still trapped against the wall, twitches when Venom chuckles. Goo shifting against Eddie’s skin, slack and writhing. Eddie can feel himself blushing. Venom’s rumbling, hollow laughter reverberating in his ear. Inescapable.

_We are pleased_

“You’re making fun of me,” Eddie says just as Venom adds _You are leaking_

And he is, but that’s beside the fucking point. Venom’s liquid self is teasing at the hems of his underwear, slipping and winding around his thighs, his waist. Intimate. Ghosting. Eddie tries to tip his hips, guide the touches higher and gets pulled back against the wall for his efforts.

He’s blushing, burning with what is surly and ugly and unhealthy shade of red when presses on, saying, “Listen you parasite—“

_Parasite is the bad word_

“It’s the only fucking word when you pin me to the wall and teas—“

_Wasn’t teasing_

And while Eddie isn’t quite sure that Venom can actually sound sulky, there’s something in the hissed mental tone that implies it. A surge of alien, conflicting signals. Something akin to the prickling feeling of embarrassment.

“But you don’t know how,” Eddie says, his free hand stroking over Venom’s head. Tracing down the tendrils that make up his neck. “Right?”

_That isn’t wrong_

“Do you...need more,” Eddie swallows. He thinks of all the porn he’s ever watched and every woman he’s ever been with and every dude he has both blown and sweet talked into blowing him. He thinks about college. He thinks about past flames and Anne and jerk off fantasies that he’s never quite given up.

Around him, Venom twitches. Hissing lightly between his teeth. The hold on Eddie’s wrist has morphed into something more closely resembling fingers, flexing against the iron stretch of his tendons. Individual. Defined.

Eddie thinks and he thinks until he’s thought out. Until images become nothing more than a stream of desire, nebulous and shifting as Venom’s actual form. He imagines the two of them, he imagines the feel of Venom against his cock.

_Okay_ Venom says. Tongue sliding moist around the shell of Eddie’s ear. Slipping around his neck to trace the ridges of his spine right at the base of his skull.

“Okay?”

_We will feel good_

It isn’t a question—Venom doesn’t really ask questions, Venom does, Venom is—but Eddie nods anyway. He already does. Riding an aroused high that he hasn’t felt in a while. Venom’s tendrils shuck his briefs down his legs, flinging them unceremoniously once Venom has stepped Eddie free of them. They land across the back of the couch to where they will be lost in the pillows for weeks to come.

And Eddie doesn’t care.

Cares even less when Venom shoves the two of them right behind the already forgotten shorts. Eddie’s fingers clench the top of the couch, squishing the upholstery out of shape. As pliant beneath his hands as Venom between his thighs. Venom’s body rising from his own, all dark, sleek rippling muscles. An oil spill. A void.

‘All the better to eat you,’ Eddie thinks again.

And he swears Venom fucking winks at the thought. Those teeth—those mother _fucking_ teeth—scrape over Eddie’s bare hip. Venom’s tongue slithers across his lower belly, teasing, hair-raising. It shouldn’t be even more arousing; shouldn’t make Eddie’s grip go white-knuckled, desperate little noises slipping from his throat.

“Please,” he grunts. He thinks of Venom around him, surrounding him, wearing him, fucking him. Tongue around his cock. “Just touch—“

And Venom does as he’s told, for once. With a soothing, shushing sort of growl. His tongue flicks down the length of Eddie’s cock and Eddie has a second to breath and to marvel at the fact that Venom’s tongue is fucking longer than his dick, before Venom slides it around completely.

And Eddie loses his fucking mind.

It’s like nothing he’s ever really felt or experienced before. All the old remembered blow jobs dim and pale and crumble in comparison. Venom devours them, devours him. Tighter than a mouth, supple and giving like a pussy but wetter and everywhere all at once. Eddie clutches at Venom’s head, fingers sinking into the gelatinous ooze that is his symbiote.

He doesn’t really do much guiding; can’t fathom more than just clutch, hold and deeper and Venom—in his fucking head in his head his head—does just that. Unhinges his jaw like some sort of snake, all god damn disassembled and sucks Eddie down to the root. There’s teeth, sharp, prickling, tickling at Eddie’s hip. Displaced. Something like fingers around Eddie’s wrist.

_Good, Eddie_ Venom hisses in his head and Eddie opens his mouth just wide enough to grunt back: “Yeah, good. Very fucking good.”

_Told you so_

His skin feels elastic, buzzing with static, uncontrollable. Knees shaking against the pliant give of Venom’s ooze.

“I’m—fuck, fuck, Ven. I’m gonna—“

_We know, feel it too. Wanna see you come, Eddie, want to feel it_

And that, that, that right there—that Venom knows and is sharing the experience and the feelings the fucking flood of them—that’s enough to throw Eddie wholesale over the edge. He rides his orgasm gracelessly, tossing his head and groaning from deep in his belly. He comes undone, cock twitching, spilling into the mess of Venom’s self. The physical sensation is secondary to the mental one. The shared connection goes both ways, the alien feel of Venom’s arousal compounding and mixing and amplifying his own. Echoed back into him over and over so it isn’t just one climax he feels but five, ten, a hundred.

The intensity drowns him, drains him, conflicting and simultaneous.

Eddie loses track of himself within it.

There is no boundary where he and Venom end and begin. They simply are. And he’s becoming more used to that.

Becoming more used to it.

He lays in the aftermath, Venom clinging to his skin, a living, shifting blanket swaddling him. Eddie doesn’t struggle, he doesn’t fear it, hasn’t for a long time. He shuts his eyes, runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth.

Hisses as he prods against something foreign and cutting, turns his head to spit a shard of bone from between his teeth. Jagged and white in the morning light, bathed in tones of gold. Eddie stares at it for a while before Venom uncurls a tendril and gathers the piece into himself.

_Fuel in the tank_

And Eddie doesn’t flinch away the thought like he usually does.

So maybe he’s getting used to it after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like a day. This movie owned my ass. Comments etc are always appreciated.


End file.
